My sandwich sat heavily in my stomach as I watched states turn blue and red Tuesday night, and I wanted to write something beautiful about empathy. I wanted to say it in a way Burt Bacharach didn’t already beat me to. I wanted to lament that that song was recorded in 1965 and we’re still trading barbs about who’s un-American, un-Christian, ignorant, and ill-informed instead of just discussing facts. I wanted to tell you about how my students wrote journals suggesting that folks research their decisions and discuss them compassionately — but then turned around the last period of the day and cheered/heckled about their mock election results.

I wanted to say all of this and ask you for help and give you my prescription and . . .

instead I’m going to talk about Waffle House.

delicious unbroiled, too.

I know this is going to be a confusing post, because I doubt anyone feels the same as I do about Waffle House. But I also know that you have a Waffle House of your own. Not a literal WaHo, as we called it in college, but a figurative place that means to you what WaHo means to me.

Waffle House is my safe house. It’s a weathered yellow, globe-lamped beacon on the darkest, coldest streets on the darkest, coldest nights.

When every other restaurant is closed, it’s open. When every person I see feels like a stranger, it’s open. When my best friend in the world is closed off to me, it’s open. When everyone is asleep and I’m otherwise totally alone, Waffle House is awake.

It’s not only open: it’s welcoming.

A woman works at my Waffle House who has practiced mothering for most of her life. She effortlessly extends that to me as if I might as well be her child, a gesture that astounds me in its generosity but one that she seems to barely consider. She’ll call me sweetie or hon or baby and offer me a soda. She’ll make a joke about where I’m putting all those waffles I’m eating. She’ll ask me how everything tasted.

She doesn’t have to do that. She probably gets paid half of what I do (and I’m a teacher; I don’t get paid that much). My tip — though I’ll tip generously out of gratitude — isn’t going to make up for her lower wages. Her boss isn’t sitting there watching her. She just does it because she’s in the hospitality business, and she feels hospitable toward me. I can’t get over it.

Even in the Waffle Houses where no one mothers me, they extend the basic gestures of hospitality: no matter what time of day I walk in, how I’m feeling, or what I’ve been through, I am offered a drink. I am offered food. Someone prepares it for me and sets it before me. I pray over my food and eat surrounded by a warm blanket of noise: conversations I’m not a part of, laughter, a story told in Spanish, a couple talking in hushed tones, a man flirting with a server, a song I haven’t heard in a decade from the neon jukebox.

Maybe all this seems accidental, but I think the WaHo culture was deliberately created. Have you ever walked into a Waffle House and noticed a laminated list of “House Rules” posted close to the door or above the grill? It proudly proclaims, “You are welcome in Our House,” and notes that they will tolerate no discrimination for any reason. Maybe it’s silly, but I’m always touched by that. I believe it.

WaHo also has it’s very own language, an important part of creating a culture. I can “hold the yolks” and get my hashbrowns “smothered, covered, topped, and capped.” I don’t just order a sandwich or chili: I order Aunt Lib’s patty melt and Bert’s Chili. You’re automatically an insider if you know the lingo — and if you don’t, it’s on the menu. So welcome inside.

I guess that’s what it is — in a world where everyone suddenly seems so combative and self-centered, so willing to divide and exclude, Waffle House is the epitome of inclusivity. My faith alienates some people and my politics alienate the others, so I often feel like I’m on the outside of circles. I just don’t fit. The easy labels don’t work. And since I’m a sensitive person, I really feel the barbs from both sides. No wonder inclusivity means a lot to me.

I feel like I’m writing a grade school essay on my favorite place, but maybe that’s what I needed to go back to tonight. Maybe I needed things to become a little simpler, a little warmer.

Speaking of warmth, this Broiled Southern Pimiento Cheese goes a long way toward comforting the soul. Just like Waffle House is one of my absolute favorite places, pimiento cheese is one of my absolute favorite foods. I ordered a version that had been topped with a bit of extra sharp cheddar and broiled into a warm dip at a restaurant in Raleigh, and after one bite, I knew I had to recreate it. You’re going to adore it!

I’m a pimiento cheese addict — I love it slathered on two slices of white bread, baked into something amazing, or just eaten as a fantastic dip. This is the best pimiento cheese I’ve ever had — much better than any I can find in the grocery store for sure! This recipe adds a few hot peppers for heat and then broils the pimiento cheese to create a warm, bubbly, comforting dip you’re going to love.

*I usually use two different cheddars. Food Lion Extra Sharp Cheddar is my favorite cheese ever (and no, they did not sponsor this post) and I usually mix it with another brand of cheddar I enjoy.
**Hellmann’s is the only mayonnaise I ever, ever use, and no, they also did not sponsor this post.
***McCormick also did not sponsor this post, but I haven’t seen roasted garlic salt from anyone else and I like theirs.

Directions:
In a food processor (you can also do this by hand, but the food processor makes it a bit easier), mix the cream cheese until fluffy. Add cheese, mayonnaise, hot peppers, garlic salt, pepper, and smashed pimientos and mix until combined. If serving as a cold dip, spoon the mixture out into a serving bowl, mixing in the unused freshly grated cheese for texture.

If serving as a broiled dip, preheat the broiler. Spoon the mixture equally into shallow ramekins and top with unused freshly grated cheese. Be sure your ramekins are safe for broiling — I chanced it very carefully, but glass is not recommended for broiling — try to find some shallow metal pans or some small cast iron skillets instead. Place the ramekins on a baking sheet and broil until the cheese is browned and bubbly, rotating the pan several times. Allow to cool slightly before serving with crackers, strips of bacon, charred toast, and/or crudites.

Waffle House also did not sponsor this post and doesn’t know I exist (except my favorite servers, who remember me every time!) I just love WaHo and wanted to share my thoughts about it with you.

29 Comments on Broiled Southern Pimiento Cheese

I am very sentimental when it comes to Waffle House. As a kid, the family would make the 17 hour drive from Ohio to Florida every March. We’d stop in Georgia to sleep, and the next morning we’d hit up Waffle House. I’d get eggs and hashbrowns and grits, not because I liked them, but because sometime around the age of ten I decided it was the thing to do when in the south 🙂

Jessie

November 9, 2012 at 12:26 pm (8 years ago)

I feel the same way you do about Waffle House, for sure! Every location I have eaten at, in any state at any time, has felt much warmer, cozier, and satisfying than ANY other chain restaurant I’ve ever been to. The servers are always the sweetest people. I wish I could eat those waffles (gluten intolerant :(. ) They are so crispy on the outside and soft and heavily vanilla scented on the inside….YUM!

And as for your feeling alone and alienated because of your unique mix of views and beliefs, you are not alone!! I am not at all religious. I hold science as the sole source for explaining our existence. That might create a deep rift between people like you and me, but when I read your posts, I can’t see that at all. I see a very sweet, enthusiastic person who shares a lot of the same views that I have about relating to the outside world (my insecurities run deep) and of course FOOD 😀 But rambling aside here, thank you for being you and keep sharing!

I love the idea of broiled pimiento cheese! I only recently had pimiento cheese not cold for the first time at Dish, but I don’t think they broil it. Anywho, all this time I had it cold, but it’s so much better hot, and I bet the broiling really takes it over the top. Yum! 🙂

We don’t have a WaHo here per se, but (although I never thought this would be the case!) my safe place is the farmer’s market we have here every week. There’s a stall at the very end of the row with lots of random produce, and the guy who works there is the first person for whom I’ve become a “regular.” It always makes my day to see his face light up when I show up, and he’ll tease about how he thought I wasn’t going to make it or about how he had been saving up some strawberries for me (I buy about two flats every time I go). It’s such a nice feeling knowing somebody’s been waiting for you to make their day as much as they make mine–thank you for sharing this, Julie!

Brandy

November 10, 2012 at 12:00 am (8 years ago)

I want to run up to you and hug you so hard! I love your posts. I love the stories that have really, not much to do with the recipe. It’s like when your grandmother gives you her favorite recipe. It always comes with a story, rarely about the recipe at all. 🙂 Thanks for taking the time to write for us! We all appreciate you so very much! xoxoxoxox

Kathy

November 14, 2012 at 6:42 pm (8 years ago)

Oh Julie. Bless you for being who you are and being unafraid to share. I so enjoy your stories and your recipes. It is good to have a place (or a person) that comforts, calms, and loves you for who you are.

Maybe I’ll make this for Thanksgiving, at least one person won’t sqwabble about the fat in the cheese, and together we will enjoy. 🙂

I have a soft spot in my heart for Waffle House. It was conveniently located across the street from the sports bar I worked at in college, and needless to stay, we had our fair share of meals there during the hours between 3 and 5 am. Good times. I always remember a night when one of my friends just started buying random customers slices of pecan pie…just because. 🙂

Good times.

Oh and this bowl of cheesy goodness? Amazing. I don’t know if I’d be able to share.

I love your blog. My husband has joked about opening a Waffle House for years, and I do understand what you mean about how comforting it is. You do an amazing job of weaving story into your recipes. Thanks for sharing with us.

Love your writing….]I feel a bit of myself in it. Then, I found out you were an educator as well, and I am even more hooked. I battle discouragement constantly, feeling like I have six jobs. Then I find your site and kick myself for having such a pity party. You are inspiring, no doubt, and I look forward to reading more! Thank you for sharing!

Samantha

April 18, 2013 at 2:02 pm (7 years ago)

Thanks so much for the suggestions! Neufchâtel cheese sounds amazing. I’ll see if my cheese guys have any! (If not, they may have something that will taste similar). Will let you know how the Greek Yogurt Experiment turns out. Tang is sounds very nice, but I may miss the richness… dunno. As you said, it is certainly worth a try. 🙂